


Never Tame Your Demons

by TrashburgerBiz



Series: Easy as Breathing [4]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Heartache, Implied/Referenced Torture, Moving On, Past Relationship(s), Personal Growth, Self-Hatred, T.A.M.E. Shock Collars (Zootopia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashburgerBiz/pseuds/TrashburgerBiz
Summary: Letting go has never been Ryan's strong suit. Mad with the guilt of losing the one animal he cared about, and now being forced into a reluctant partnership with a government agent, Ryan now must face his demons and come to terms with what matters to him the most: revenge or redemption.
Series: Easy as Breathing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500854
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. ...Only Keep Them On A Leash

**Author's Note:**

> So some context on this one: this is a filler, worldbuilding piece to fill the gaps with Ryan's journey towards the FTR rewrite, and his relationship with ZIA Agent Jack Savage. As well as overcoming his mental hurdles and self-loathing and guilt, he also has to overcome physical limitations placed upon him. This will be in a serial format, with each chapter tying to a key event for him or their relationship.
> 
> This Ryan is a complete overhaul of his previous incarnation, and a lot won't make sense regarding his situation at this current time. Sally and I are currently writing all of this little verse of ours and it will all make sense in the end.

The trip to Zootopia and the subsequent few months following had been hell, to put it mildly. No shortage of leads or rumors about her history, her whereabouts, or her activities. Most of them seemed fruitless, just dumb mammals spouting off about their numerous conquests with his vixen, or about how they had last seen her with this animal or at this place. It led him in circles, gave him no definitive answers and infinitely more questions. It was as if each lead inched him closer to another corner or dead end. It infuriated him, and he made those animals know his fury, his heartbreak. They defiled her, his fox, his sweet Bell. 

Every day offered new challenges and no solutions, and Ryan was reaching his breaking point. A week turned into several, which turned into a month, which became another, then more. Endless searching, endless fighting. He went home more bloodied, more hopeless, more enraged every day. A wake of equally battered animals followed him, most alive, some not. He tried for any outlet he could, whether it be drinking, taking his frustration out on others with his claws, or warming their bed. He should have known that his actions would catch up to him, that what little ground he had to run on would end on a cliff with no other side to jump to. 

Unfortunately, the cliff came a lot sooner than he expected. 

His newest lead came by chance. 

Sheer luck of overhearing somebody mentioning her in one of the private rooms of a bar. His paw halted in raising his glass to his lips as his ears perked at the mention of his lifemate's name. Another possible loop, a dead end, no doubt about that. No shame in listening, though. Maybe this time would be different, he lied to himself. He turned slightly in his chair to see a pair two spots down, both speaking in low hisses. He strained to listen, catching the tail end of a sentence. "--the White bitch, man, c'mon."  
  
The wave of relief, accompanied by every other emotion under the sun, slammed into him at once. It took some effort to not walk over and pry the answer out of the slightly drunk bastard. No need to do so yet, not if he gave more information. He resigned to reeling himself in mentally and refocusing on the conversation, subtly leaning in but feigning it as resting on the bar counter top.

"What fucking happened to her?" the second one queried, shuffling on his stool and casting a furtive glance over his shoulder. 

The first responded with a baleful glare, as if this lack of tact and attentiveness from his compatriot was a constant in his beleaguered existence. "Nothin’, ya idiot. Heard she’s fuckin’ a new guy, Finn, last I ‘eard. Some shit like that.”  
  
“Leary? Don’t he run with Big? How’d he get with her?”  
  
The first one, a badger, took another look around the room before going on in an even lower pitch. “No idea, but figure Al gave ‘er to him. Tryin’ to get good with Big, prolly.”  
  
A mental sigh. He was not the least bit surprised by this information. Nearly all the animals he had met rattled off similar anecdotes. But this one was different. Al Cabone. The wolfhound responsible for attempting to kill him, and for tearing his vixen away. He had hunted them relentless the first time they tried to make a bid for freedom and leave Zootopia. Rage gripped his heart with a forceful and oppressive hand, subjugating his mind so that he focused on nothing else. It was his old, impulsive fury that had given him much more trouble than it was worth, and with it, the strength to take as many animals as he had. Among civilized society, he would be in prison awaiting execution. But this place was different from the good, gentrifying animals of Zootopia’s main populace. This was the wild west, and all animals knew the rules they played by in this kind of life.   
  
It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to shatter the stupid motherfucker’s beer bottle and shove the shards down his throat. Instead, he simply hopped up onto the countertop and stormed over. The badger started in surprise when he was nearly yanked off his stool and suddenly face to face with an incredibly irate raccoon. Several heartbeats passed before the badger’s inebriated brain comprehended what was going on, and who was grabbing him. Before the animal could react or say a word, something sharp pressed against the soft flesh of his neck. Wisely, he stopped moving and went silent. Ryan kept his claws near the other animal’s carotid, speaking in a sardonic fashion to his partner, who had just started to stand up. “I would stay where you are. I am quite close to an artery, and having one severed would be less than ideal for your friend here.”  
  
Satisfied that both mammals would remain docile, Ryan was able to hiss out the question that vexed him. “Where is this Finn you speak of?”  
  
The other male cleared his throat, his mouth going dry and his ears flattening back along his head. “He’s in S-Sahara Square. I think n-near Palm View. Drives’a van! Big ear’d guy, a fennec, can’t miss ‘im!”   
  
Ryan’s lips curled back into a snarl as he applied pressure with his claws, tilting the badger’s head back. “How did you hear this?”   
  
“Some guy, works fer Cabone! The big guy!” the badger managed to choke out.  
  
“I know him,” Ryan spat with no shortage of disdain. He released the other mammal, whose own paw immediately shot to massage his neck. Hopping down, he made his way to the door. He opened it and was about to step out before he turned and called to the pair as if he had just remembered something important. “If you’re lying, I’ll come back for you.”  
  
On that note, he went out into Zootopia’s streets. The scent of millions of animals, cheap booze, and hundreds of restaurants hit his nose all at once. For those not native to the place, it could be an assault on the senses. But to those like him who had been born and raised here, there was little more that gave that feeling of familiarity and comfort. Right now he couldn’t pay it any mind or appreciate it properly. He had a mission, one he’d rushed into without much planning or thought. He had been waiting half a year for this. His Bell...he would see her once more. They could escape again, get far away from here, live a life of peace that they yearned for so dearly. The fact that Al was apparently still alive was one he overlooked; the reality that Ryan had brought too much attention to himself in the past months was forgotten entirely.   
  
Sahara Square was a significant distance away from Downtown, definitely outside of walking. He had no vehicle of his own, though he knew how to drive. Though slower than he would have liked, the tram system would have to do. Luckily for him, the station was close by, and it included the Zootopia Loop. The walk there was uneventful and short, and he boarded with no issue other than having to forfeit a portion of what little cash he had. The ride took about half-an-hour, and landed him directly above the street. His agitation was apparent the entire duration, enough to where he damn near kicked out the train doors when it stopped. Bounding down the stairwell onto the sidewalk below, he took a quick look around before moving along through the neighborhood. It consisted of larger houses, apartment complexes, or small business buildings. Two to three stories were common, with empty alleys between each structure making the place seem like Downtown’s towering cityscapes, but more stout. Plenty of places for the fox to live. Now to find the van…  
  


Doing so took him about ten minutes. His searching led him down a block or two before he saw it.   
  
Orange, blocky, old, and with some dramatic medieval fox art.  
  
Exhilaration pulsed through his body, his heart rate jumping up a considerable degree and his blood pounding in his ears. She was close, he knew it. He was going to have her back, his Bell…  
  
His feet moved without him thinking to do so and he surged forward at a full sprint. Just had to get in there, kill this Finn of hers, then take his vixen and leave Zootopia as fast as possible. If only it were so easy.  
  
Things went wrong when he was about a hundred feet away.   
  
He hadn’t seen the smaller car behind the van, until it backed out of the driveway and started to speed off in the opposite direction. As it did so he managed to see the silhouettes of not one, but two animals in the front.   
  
“NO!” His cry of anguish left his lips without him hearing it, but the lament and wrath he felt hit him with the force of a truck.  
  
His running petered off to a trot, then a halt right next to the house as he watched the vehicle become an ever-decreasing dot on the road. Chest heaving and paws shaking, he wasn’t sure if it was from the run or from how incensed he was. How much more he now craved to tear that fox’s entrails out and choke him with them. Yet he was not so blind by his rage to not see a solution: the van.  
  
Making his way to the driver’s side he clambered up, holding on via the mirror. Coiling his free paw back, he smashed the window and unlocked the door, then wrenched it open with no semblance of care or subtlety. Hopping onto the seat, he instantly went to work on trying to hot-wire it. No way the keys would be in the vehicle after all. He didn’t get very far, however.  
  
There was a brief moment where the fur on the back of his neck stood up as he sensed somebody behind him. Before he could turn to look, he felt a paw connect full force with the back of his head and direct it to the steering wheel.   
  
_THWACK!_  
  
A brief flash of agony came to him but slipped away within milliseconds.  
  
After that, he felt nothing.   
  
The raccoon awoke with a throbbing head and a complete lack of awareness of his surroundings. His brain got the jumpstart it needed when he felt a fist strike his jaw, which was followed by a sharp command. “Wake up!”  
  
 _Hard to sleep after a hit like that_ , he thought, his senses coming to full alertness and his eyes darting around the room. Based on what he could tell, he was in a garage of sorts, given the car lifts in the ground. He also noted the table of tools about three feet away, mostly stuff for working on the aforementioned vehicles, but also some more...lethal implements. Ones that even in this circumstance he could admire. But what really drew his attention was the figure next to them: a rabbit.   
  
A very unique rabbit, he noted with a twitch of his whiskers. Ryan looked him over thoroughly as any skilled combatant would with an opponent, and came to glean many things in the span of a few short seconds. Firstly, the animal was too large to be a rabbit; he had to be a hare. Next, his fur pattern was different from any he had seen for his species, grey with black stripes running all down his ears to his neck. It seemed artificial, but there was no way for him to know for sure. Then there was his build, which was lean and powerful, but more for agility than raw strength. Still, the suit he wore couldn’t hide the fact he had obvious shape and muscle to him. He had to, the raccoon reminded himself with a hint of bitterness. Felt like he almost broke his jaw.  
  
The one key feature that really stuck out to Ryan though, were the eyes. They were a dazzling shade of blue like his own, though not as pale. On any other animal, they would be beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. On him, this hare, they were anything but. Because Ryan knew those eyes, he knew what lay within them, what they tried so desperately to hide.   
  
He saw Wrath. He saw Hate. He saw Pain. The Pain that came from Grief, that came from a tiring existence of relentless suffering. This mammal had lost somebody. Had likely lost many more. And Ryan knew that if given the chance, this hare would raze the city and reduce it to cinders with his anguish. And even then. it still wouldn’t be enough.  
  
To him it wasn’t beautiful.  
  
It was magnificent.  
  
The procyonid felt a wry smile come to him, though it was painful to do so. His voice came out as a croak. “That was a nasty hit you did. Pretty heavy for a bunny.”  
  
His host didn’t show any indication of humor at his comment, nor any change in expression.   
  
Ryan, seeing that this would get him nowhere, attempted to move. Only to find he was roped by his wrists to a chair. Now the striped mammal let a tiny smirk of pleasure grace his features. The raccoon wasn’t as impressed, rolling his eyes and squirming in his seat. “You know, I have rather important business to attend to. Either let me go, or I will make you.”  
  
Now did the hare speak, his conspicuous accent foreign to Zootopia, likely from Britannia. The amused drawl his words came out in only further irritated the captive criminal. “Not really in a position to make threats, are you?”  
  
“You must not know who I am,” Ryan snapped, baring his canines and leaning forward.  
  
“A homeless piece of filth that I had the misfortune of being forced to scrape off the street? Yes, I know who you are, Lixo.”  
  
The venomous retort Ryan had prepared was silenced by a brief pause of having been caught off-guard. Seeing the hesitation, the leporid went on before Ryan could recover. “My name is Jack Savage. I--”  
  
“Savage? What are you, a fucking stripper? There’s--”

The strike that came to the other side of his jaw was so fast that he hadn’t even seen it coming. But did he fucking feel it. His head moved from the momentum and he let out a low grunt of pain. He could already feel a warm liquid pooling in between his teeth, seeping through and dribbling down the fur on his chin. Satisfied, Jack ignored the pointed, under-the-breath curses thrown his way and continued, now with an edge to his words. “I do hope you are quite done. As I was trying to say, I am an agent of the ZIA, and I am here to ask you a few questions about an employer of yours.”  
  
Ryan had just recovered from spitting a bit of blood on the ground to glare at the buck. His response was uncharacteristically reserved. “ZIA? Employer? What do you mean?”  
  
Seeing the caution being exercised by his prisoner, the captor elaborated. “Yes, your employer Al Cabone. I do believe you worked for him, yes?”  
  
“Months and months ago. We aren’t on the best of terms,” the venom in the raccoon’s voice was enough indication that it was more than simple dislike.  
  
“It wasn’t so long for you to have forgotten some of the minutiae of his work, his habits, possibly his other employees?” Jack probed.  
  
“Never cared to pay attention, truth be told,” Ryan hissed through his teeth in a disparaging fashion.  
  
“Hm. No love lost between you two, you say. Why not tell me, if you hate him so much?”  
  
“I used to interrogate. I know how this dance goes,” the predator explained with a loud sigh. He then made sure to look the hare in the eyes before resuming. “Cabone is a coward. I am more of a threat than he could hope to be.”  
  
At this, Jack raised a brow, his tone going from businesslike to amused. “Quite an ego you have there for one so young.”  
  
He ignored that observation, wriggling once more but maintaining full eye contact. “You know, there’s something you should know about us raccoons…always watch the hands!”  
  
In a fraction of a second, Ryan tore his hands away from the ropes holding his wrists, having managed to discreetly cut the bindings with his claws. Before Jack could stop him, the raccoon twisted himself to the side of the chair, lifting it and throwing it at high velocity at the hare. Though initially caught by surprise, the buck was able to recover and easily dodge the wooden furniture, hearing the bang against the concrete floor and the crack of wood. What he was expecting, however, was the following swipe that came his way. Easily, and with some contempt, he blocked the blow. Using the momentum and by grabbing the raccoon’s wrist, he redirected him in a wide arc and released him back in the original direction he had come from. Ryan stumbled and ended up right where he had begun.   
  
“You’ll have to try harder than that, Sport,” came the buck’s almost sing-song taunt.   
  
The only thing that Ryan heard out of all those words was “sport” and everything else was drowned out. He had always hated that pet name. Al had used it exclusively, and the way the hare said it made it apparent he was aware of that fact. “Don’t you _ever_ fucking call me that!”  
  
Now thoroughly enraged, the procyonid spun on his heel and charged the other male. He struck as hard and as fast as he could, aiming his slash for Jack’s throat. Once again, the agent effortlessly blocked the hit before responding with a backfist to the neck. Thankfully for his fast reflexes Ryan was able to bring his palm up to block it, his body shifting from the force. The tiny shimmer of pride he felt from this small feat was squashed immediately as the buck followed up by spinning around behind him and kicking out the back of his leg below the knee, followed by a patronizing remark. “Good, but not good enough.”  
  
He fell down to a kneeling position and might have been able to offer a retaliation if it weren’t for the sudden sensation of something being roped around his neck. Much like a handcuff, it was made of two metal halves that swung together to clasp around his throat. He heard a loud “ _click”_ that gave a definite air of finality. He was then pushed down to the ground, only just barely being able to catch himself. Once stable on his knees, he reached up to yank at the device, his ears flattening in his aggravation. Feeling it over, his anger rapidly flashed to confusion, to realization, then back to rage.   
  
It was a collar! A fucking collar! That fucking rabbit put a goddamn collar on him, like he was some beast to be tamed! Mere words couldn’t describe the absolute hate he felt. He soon found out that feeling as such was a bad idea.   
  
A high-pitched, mechanical whine filled his ears that was accompanied by the flickering of an LED on what Ryan assumed to be the power cell. He once again went to touch it, his fingers now handling it more gingerly. His protest came out as defiantly as he could muster, but the hint of trepidation was still there. “What did you do?!”  
  
“I simply provided a means of pacifying you, Lixo. I would have thought someone of your supposed caliber to have figured that out.”  
  
Ryan whipped around to face the buck, edges of his lips pulling back to bare teeth once more. “I’ll fucking kill you!”  
  
“Mm, and look how well that worked last time,” the other mammal reproached. “But please, if you so wish to, go ahead and try.”  
  
He should have seen through that admittedly conspicuous bait, but he was too blinded by his fury to give a fuck. Leaping to his feet, he went to slash again at the buck, of whom stood perfectly still much to his confusion. The LED changing from green to yellow to red within a second was missed by him.  
  
The resulting effect, however, was not.   
  
A mere inch or two before he could find purchase in the striped rabbit’s flesh, his muscles completely seized up and locked. A sharp, tingling pain filled his entire body. His muscles felt like they themselves were vibrating, but yet no matter how he tried he couldn’t move any part of his body. A metallic taste assaulted the inside of his mouth, darkness crept the edge of vision. Some part of his brain knew that he was being electrocuted, that the voltage he was experiencing was high. He also knew he couldn’t take much more of it, that consciousness was slipping away as if he was going to sleep.  
  
What a shitty way to die.   
  
Just when he felt as if he was going to go under, the collar beeped and the current was cut off. Instantly his body crumpled to the floor, his limbs weighing many tons, his chest heaving as his muscles agonized to move and let air fill his struggling lungs. His mouth felt dry, his brain fried, and tiny spasms erupted all along his limp form. How...how much was that? Unable to breathe properly, let alone speak, Jack still managed to perfectly guess what he was thinking. “That, raccoon, was sixty thousand volts at thirty milliamps. It is also, as you found out, rather unpleasant.”  
  
A long minute passed before the weakened procyonid was able to croak out a feeble reply. “If you’re going to kill me, do it…”  
  
Jack inclined his head, the faintest of smiles gracing his lips. “The thought crossed my mind. Fortunately for you, my bosses have other plans. And killing you would be such a waste.”  
  
“Wh-wha--? I don’t understand…”  
  
“We have use for you. Specifically, _I_ have use for you. I know your story. I know what you were doing when I found you, whom you’re seeking. We can help you, but that requires you to cooperate.”  
  
By this point, Ryan was recovering the feeling in his arms and legs and the rest of his body. He managed to flex his paws, roll his wrists, then force himself to sit up. The agent had consideration enough to let him get to this point, keeping a watchful eye and letting the other mammal consider his proposition. The silence was broken when Ryan’s voice rang through the empty shop, his gaze stuck on the floor. “It sounds like I don’t really have a choice.”  
  
“Mm, but the illusion is nice, isn’t it?”  
  
“Then I have one question: why?”  
  
For the first time, the buck’s tone softened, though only by an iota. “Because I see potential. I know what you are going through--” he raised a paw to stem the remonstrations threatening to leave Ryan’s mouth--”and I would like to give you a second chance. One where you can put those macabre talents to proper use.”  
  
Jack’s praise was stunted the next moment, however, as a sarcastic smile spread across his muzzle.. “And after that pitiful display? It would be an insult to turn you back on the street.”   
  
He then offered his paw to the still-grounded raccoon, who refused it and got to his feet. Readjusting the collar, he huffed out to his new charge. “Fine then. Where do we go from here?”  
  
The rabbit clasped his paws behind his back and took quick strides to the door leading outside. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “First have to get you to the office. Then a shower. You reek like garbage, though I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.” Grinning again, he exited the building, his underling following close behind with many a under-the-breath cursing. He wondered how much he would have to endure snide remarks. Probably forever, he decided. He sighed internally.  
  
This was going to be the start of a terrible partnership.


	2. Few Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is inducted into the ZIA and given his orders, though these don't come without certain, unpleasant restrictions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to MamaSally, for helping me with timelines and keeping my head on straight, and for being Chief Angst Advisor. As well as letting me share this verse with her.
> 
> And my deepest thanks to Midlou for being an overall enthusiastic supporter and number one Doc lurker. He also beta read this and helped fixed innumerable mistakes because I suck sometimes at writing.
> 
> Also kudos to anybody that can spot a character belonging to a certain Zoot artist.

It turned out to be an interesting day for Ryan.  
  
Jack had planned for him to comply in the end, if the SUV waiting in the outside alley was any indication. Grinning in the most smug fashion, the hare waved his paw for the raccoon to get in the back seat without even so much as looking at him. Ryan did so without a word, his gaze sweeping over the driver, front passenger, and animals in the seats behind him. They were all relatively the same size as him, and all were undoubtedly armed. Likely here in case he did resist, or tried to escape. He made this assessment in less than a second. Jack saw the movement, giving the tiniest nod of approval to himself. It would do well for Ryan to keep his wits. Still, he couldn’t resist stirring the pot. Just a little. “You didn’t think I came here alone, did you? Though I suppose I could have, couldn’t I?”  
  
The raccoon sighed, hating how the rabbit seemed to enjoy rubbing it in. Getting bested, collared, and humiliated by a prey animal in a suit with a stripper name already crushed his spirits enough. The fact he was being reminded it had been done with contemptuous ease was akin to torture. Without looking he made a rude gesture with his paw.  
  
Seeing that he once again had the upper hand, Jack fell into a comfortable silence. Other than this initial interaction, nothing else happened.  
  
It took the vehicle thirty minutes to get back to Downtown, mostly due to the evening rush of traffic. Ryan was, as one would expect from a raccoon and teenager, immensely curious as to where they were going. They had to drive up one of the many hills and into the cluster of the largest skyscrapers, passing a bridge over the central waterfall between the two sides. His question was answered for him as they turned right at an intersection and into the parking lot of one of the high-rises. Instinctively the young raccoon looked up, eyes widening, ears perking, and nose twitching against his best wishes.  
  
The building was made mostly of reflective glass, but had a grey bricked frame. It shot far into the sky like the other structures around it, but only reached about two-thirds the height of the tallest. Ryan noted this might have been because its position was just a smidge lower on the hill, but it was impossible to discern for sure. The overall shape was unique too, as it ignored the typical animalistic, curvaceous theme of its neighbors but instead went for a knife-slanted roof and hard corners. Ryan looked puzzled at the small protrusions near the upper windows. What they were though, he couldn’t make out due to distance.  
  
Although not outwardly menacing or foreboding, the building’s utilitarian design gave Ryan the impression of a prison. Which, he thought sourly, wasn’t far from the truth.  
  
The driver pulled them into a private garage, which was revealed to be a motor pool. Various cars ranging from small sedans and SUVs to armored personnel carriers filled the space. The structure was clearly designed for larger mammals and as such, the fleet of vehicles was an expansive one, and likely not one Ryan would see the end of any time soon. As they stopped and got out, the raccoon was still swiveling his head to see them all, curiosity overrunning his hostile tendencies. Jack studied him as he did this, an iota of doubt and pity worming its way into his mind. Ryan was still a child by definition, and the thought of that was numbing for the hare. To carry so much hate and pain at so young…  
  
He decided to file away those thoughts for another time and instead opted to gesture for Ryan to follow him. The predator did so as he strolled to one of the smaller elevators that ran up the entire length of the building, neither speaking as the doors closed and Jack punched in the top floor.  
  
Seconds passed. Ryan crossed his arms. Jack adjusted his cufflinks. Ryan uncrossed his arms. Jack ignored him and checked his watch. The silence continued. Ryan glanced at the striped hare’s unconcerned expression.  
  
“Where are we going?!” Ryan blurted out, unable to handle the silence anymore.  
  
Jack just managed to suppress the smile threatening to attack his muzzle. He kept his tone as neutral as possible. Perhaps too much so. “We are going to go see our boss. He will be briefing you on what we expect from you.”  
  
Satisfied to have gotten a response of any kind, Ryan pressed on. “I thought that was your job.”  
  
“No, my job will be to watch over and educate you.”  
  
“Don’t you have to be smart to do that?”  
  
Jack turned his head to look at the other animal, a single brow raising. Ryan’s lips were turned up in a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you plan to be antagonistic the entire time?”  
  
The raccoon’s response was immediate and crisp. “Absolutely.”

Jack exhaled slowly through his mouth. He supposed that this was his fault, and he deserved it for earlier. No time to think of a response either, as the doors opened. Fixing his head and becoming business again, he glided out of the elevator. Ryan followed behind him, his footsteps just audible to the leporid’s ears.  
  
The hallway connecting to the elevator was short, and only had two doors on each side leading to random offices. The hallway widened out about ten feet down into a waiting room, with a secretary’s desk on the right, a bench on the left, and a massive oak double door directly ahead. Jack came to a halt at the desk, thankful it at least came to his neck so he didn’t have to crane as much. The mammal sitting there was a small, young lynx, only standing about half a foot taller than a fox. He had noticed them getting closer and hastily stuffed away his phone, though Jack didn’t really mind; it got boring up here. His tone was pleasant and courteous as he spoke to the feline. “Good evening, Marc. Is Director Attler available?”  
  
Marc’s tense muscles relaxed and he spun in his chair to his double monitors. “Let me seee…” He trailed off, tip of his tongue sticking out as he scrolled along some spreadsheet. He typed for a second, waited, then gave a nod of affirmation. “Yeah, I just pinged him. He isn’t in any calls. Go on in, Agent Savage.”  
  
The hare inclined his head in thanks, then moved to enter the double doors. Marc’s eyes followed the raccoon curiously as he passed, letting them settle on the collar. Ryan bared the faintest hint of canines, hissing out at the cat. “Why not come closer and touch it, too?”  
  
Before he could go any further, the raccoon felt Jack’s firm paw on his shoulder, guiding him into the office. The doors shut behind them and Ryan felt any resistance burn away as he found himself face to face with the Director of the ZIA. Sitting behind a polished mahogany desk built for lions was the largest moose he had ever seen. Dressed in a tailored steel grey suit and sage green tie, the moose exuded everything Ryan could think of when he imagined an animal that worked for the government. He held himself with an experienced confidence, which despite the greying fur along his muzzle, told Ryan he had seen and done it all. He was still broad shouldered and fit, and his horns gleamed with polish. Not a retiree by any stretch. Older, wiser, and still at the top of his game despite his age, Director Attler was someone that Ryan knew that he could never beat. The moose gazed down his nose at him, unblinking and expression unreadable.  
  
A mix of respect and apprehension turned the young raccoon’s stomach in knots as he held the gaze, but he maintained his ground. He knew this game and he refused to show any weakness no matter how anxious he felt. The only indication of his unease came from the collar as it let out a low, solitary ‘ _beeep_ ’. Attler blinked slowly. His own mind had run a rapid assessment of the animal before him, the one Jack had insisted on for months. It pleased the older mammal that so far Ryan remained uncowed, despite the obvious fear he was feeling. Wanting to waste no more time, Attler spoke. His voice, as befitting him, was loud and firm, but not unkind. Much like how a father might sound. “Good evening, Mr. Lixo. Why don’t you have a seat?”  
  
His cloven hoof gestured to a set of chairs more befitting the raccoon’s size atop his desk. Ryan, thankful to be free of the staring contest, moved to climb up the larger furniture and onto the desk. As he did so, Attler threw a subtle nod of approval Jack’s way, who acknowledged it with a nod of his own. Following his charge, the hare did two hops to get atop the desk. He smoothed his suit, then took his seat. Satisfied that both animals were seated and waiting patiently, the larger animal addressed Ryan once more. “My name is Darren Attler. I am the Director of Operations for the ZIA. I am sure you have many questions as to why you are here.”  
  
Ryan nodded hesitantly and Attler continued. “I ask that you hold onto them for now until I am finished.” He took a brief pause to ensure the young raccoon listened, then carried on. “I will not waste either of our time and get to the point. As I am sure Agent Savage has informed you, the ZIA has a need for your talents. Make no mistake, we have no shortage of animals that can perform intensive interrogations. However given the nature of Agent Savage’s assignment, as well as your reputation with Zootopia’s criminal population, we feel you are best suited for what we have in mind.”  
  
Ryan assumed he didn’t need to respond to that. Rightly so, as the moose kept going. “We understand your more violent habits, and I assure you we will put them to good use in due time, but until you gain our trust you are going to be on a probationary status. The first part of which is that collar you have around your neck. The second is not being allowed to leave this building.”  
  
His cloven hoof came up to stop the protest he could already see the procyonid getting ready to voice. “You are not in a position to argue, Lixo. You are being given more than you are due as it is, thanks to Agent Savage,” the moose chided him, his tone adamant. “You are also to be with your handler at all times, and that is not negotiable. We are giving you a second chance. Do what Savage says, do it well, then we will talk about giving you more privileges.”  
  
Suitably chastened, Ryan closed his mouth and leaned back against his chair. His arms crossed and his brows knitted in obvious displeasure, mentally cursing this entire fucked up arrangement. Fuck these spooks. The second he got what he wanted, he was gone. The Director ignored his pouting and gestured to Jack. “In keeping with your restriction, and since we are still preparing a room, you are going to stay with Agent Savage for the time being.”  
  
Ryan glanced sideways to see how the hare would react to this news, surprised and delighted to see the faintest flicker of indignation in his eyes. Jack had not foreseen this outcome, apparently. However, he had more tact than his charge, and kept his thoughts to himself. Instead he dipped his head in understanding. “Very well, sir.”  
  
The moose straightened himself in his chair and gave them a final look-over. “Good. You will begin training in the morning, Lixo. The details of which will be decided by your new handler. Now if you both do not mind, I have work to attend to.”  
  
Their audience over, the pair hopped down to the floor and made their way out of the office. They passed the desk, with Marc briefly looking up from his phone, but neither animal paid him any mind. They finally reached the elevator and Ryan took another glance at the rabbit, who was standing quietly with his paws in his pockets and expression blank. The raccoon grinned at him and spoke with a feigned innocence. “Something tells me us sharing the same room isn’t what you had in mind.”  
  
The neutral demeanor dropped instantly and the striped hare’s brows furrowed. “I can handle you if it’s work, but sacrificing my privacy for the likes of you? _Hmph_.”  
  
“Consider it an occupational hazard,” Ryan purred, enjoying his boss’ discomfort immensely.  
  
“You aren’t a hazard to anybody but yourself,” he replied without pause.  
  
The raccoon’s grin widened. “Yeah, but I’m _your_ hazard now.”  
  
Jack shook his head, a knot of regret touching his mind and the desire to throw the insufferable little bastard out a seventy story window becoming more appealing by the second.

  
The elevator opened again and another hall came into view. This one was longer than the upper office, with many more doors running parallel on each side. Nested into each door was a smaller door allowing the rooms to be used by smaller mammals. Jack chose the first door on the left, holding a paw up to stop the other mammal.  
  
On the wall adjacent to the door was a small electronic touchpad. Jack swiped his paw along it and it came to life in an instant. He typed in a sequence of numbers at such a speed that Ryan had no chance to see what the sequence was. Next, Jack placed his watch against the side and it responded with two beeps followed by the sound of the door unlocking. The entire process took less than ten seconds. Ryan had been watching him with perked ears and inquisitive eyes, but the wonder he felt was nothing compared to when he was ushered inside.  
  
The raccoon involuntarily recoiled at the sight of the place. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t something...this nice.  
  
The interior was a full condo with all of the higher-class amenities one might expect: a kitchen with an island bar, an open concept living room with comfortable furniture, large bay windows, and a modern aesthetic. The proportions favored animals sized between foxes and wolves, which Ryan realized worked well for the striped hare; he was just taller than a fox. Ryan also noticed a balcony, and came to realize it was the same odd protrusions he saw outside the building. However, something stood out to him about the place: despite the basic splendor, the furnishings and personal effects were a touch more reserved. Not quite spartan, but not ornate either.  
  
He was about to voice this observation when the other animal called over from hanging his suit jacket. “Close your mouth.”  
  
Ryan snapped his gaping jaw shut and glared back at him before shrugging and beelining for the bar. “ZIA really takes care of you, don’t they?” He called back, his tail flicking in triumph as his paw seized a choice bottle of bourbon.  
  
“If they earn it.”  
  
Jack’s voice came much closer than Ryan anticipated, resulting in him nearly dropping the bottle as he spun around. Thankfully, the leporid snatched it before it could go anywhere. He blinked at the raccoon. “What do you think you are doing?”  
  
“Getting a drink. Is that a crime?”  
  
Jack snorted. “You’re underage, Lixo. That _is_ a crime.”  
  
“HA! So I am good to work for the government and kill animals as you see fit, but I’m not allowed to get fuckin’ sloshed?” The raccoon got nose to nose with the rabbit and yanked the bottle back, speaking in a teasing whisper. “You’re funny.”  
  
Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered if it was too late to just launch the raccoon off the balcony, but then decided it was probably best not to. Yet. Instead, he took the bottle back as Ryan was gearing up to pour a shot, ignoring the indignant cry from his charge. “No. We have work tomorrow and you’re underage. No drinking.”

  
“Aw, fucking suck my dick,” the raccoon snarled.  
  
“That’s illegal too,” Jack rebuked, casting a similar look Ryan’s way. He placed the alcohol back in its rightful place, giving it a final adjustment to put it in line with the others. Satisfied, he made his way towards his bedroom, undoing his tie. “The room on the right is yours. I will see about getting you clothes after I take a shower and change myself.”  
  
His voice faded as he vanished into his own room. Shame he did, the raccoon thought. He wanted to shout at the hare how he was eighteen and that fellatio would be perfectly legal, but decided to shelve that point for another day. Ryan’s musings were dissolved at the sounds of the striped hare going through drawers and taking off garments. Thirty seconds later, Jack came back out in a t-shirt and gym shorts and paused at the door of the bathroom. “Behave while I am gone, but don’t be afraid to get comfortable. As much as we both hate it, this is your home now. Eat, get some rest, and for Frith’s sake, take a bloody shower.” As if to emphasize his point, the hare wrinkled his nose.  
  
Ryan frowned and took a small sniff of himself.  
  
Maybe Jack had a point…  
  
Once his boss had finished his shower, the raccoon wasted no time in doing the same. He bolted to the room assigned to him, content with its single-mammal bed and simple furniture. Taking much care, he shed his denim jacket and hung it on a hanger in the closet. He was about to walk away, but paused, tips of his fingers lingering. His head swiveled to look back at the jacket, paw caressing the arm of it. Its rough material was familiar and comforting even if the old thing had seen better days. Like most of his possessions, it was dated and worn and carried sentimental value. A parting gift by an animal that had taken him in when he needed it most. One that had been like a father to him.  
  
No, he _had_ been a father.  
  
It had been six months, but the raccoon still caught the faintest trace of the previous mammal’s scent. He closed his eyes and leaned his head in. He was alone. Nobody would see him. Just for a moment...  
  
He took a deep breath, letting the memories come freely. Of love, of safety, of having a life that was free of...this. He wanted to look at them fondly, but all he could glean was a sense of profound wistfulness. _I hope you’re doing okay, Bill. Wherever you are..._ _  
__  
_ It took some effort to pull away, but he managed to, patting the garment as he did. The rest of his clothes he yanked off without much consideration, tossing them onto the floor and padding to the bathroom. Figuring out the shower took a minute, as it always did, but he soon got it. The water was just under scalding, which felt wonderful on his fur and sore muscles. He had a brief moment where he wondered if Jack paid for water or heat, then shrugged and decided he didn’t give a fuck. This was going to be a well-deserved, long shower.  
  


The shower itself had been a long one indeed, one where by the time he got out Jack had returned and placed clothes on his bed. Ryan got into something comfy, put the rest away in a dresser, and then realized he had the rest of the evening free. He took the time to sharpen and clean his claws, a habit he still kept up with religiously. He was interrupted by Jack, who invited him to come make and eat dinner. That turned out to be a simple affair, mostly greens and potatoes, though Ryan found it rather meager. He was a predator, after all. After they cleaned up, the raccoon had no idea what to do next. He was about to bother Jack, just to cure his boredom, but the hare was one step ahead and dropped a vanilla folder in front of him. Ryan tilted his head at it, whiskers quivering.  
  
“Your syllabus,” the hare clarified, taking a seat across the bar from his charge. “It outlines what I am going to teach you. As well as a workout regimen, study materials, the typical things.”  
  
The raccoon opened the folder, his eyes scanning over some pages while he skipped over others. He was silent for some time, his muzzle sometimes scrunching with distaste or lips twitching with satisfaction. Finally he spoke, his displeasure apparent. “Obstacle courses and sparring seem fine, but marksmanship?”  
  
Jack raised a single brow again. “I would figure you would delight in finding new ways to kill someone.”  
  
“Ruin the fun of it, more like,” the predator spat, lips curling back.  
  
His handler rolled his eyes. “I am sure I will make you see sense soon enough. For now, however, I would say go to bed. We have to be up at zero-five-hundred.” _  
_  
Ryan glanced up at the striped hare, who was already standing up. The thought of sleeping suddenly caused a wave of fatigue to hit him. Through all of the excitement, Ryan hadn’t realized just how tired he was. Not bothering to stifle a yawn, he hopped off the bar stool and made his way to his assigned room. Jack had followed but turned to his own room. Neither bothered to say good night to each other, just sharing a head tilt and closing their respective doors.  
  
The raccoon shed the shorts and tank top he had been wearing and crawled into bed. Brief worry at the thought of having his usual nightmares plagued his mind, but those concerns were snuffed easily. The warm, heavy covers combined with his weary state of mind had an almost instantaneous effect, and sleep pulled the raccoon in with the force of a black hole.  
  
Morning came faster than he would have liked, with Jack rousing him with a shake of the arm and a hissed urging. It took the raccoon a minute, but he eventually got up, put on the same clothes from last night, then the pair had a simple fruit breakfast. Ryan had only just finished licking his chin and whiskers clean when Jack got up and nudged him. “Let’s go.”  
  
Reluctantly the procyonid followed, dragging his feet as they walked to the elevator. “Where we goin’?” Ryan grumbled, brows knitted.  
  
“To train, obviously. Please don’t tell me you’re going to be this daft all day?”  
  
“I’m just wakin’ up. No coffee to help either,” the raccoon pointedly stared at the mug in his boss’s paw as he said this, his nose twitching at the rich aroma.  
  
“Tragic we have no time for such frivolous comforts,” Jack reflected, bringing the mug to his lips.  
  
Ryan grumbled something vulgar under his breath as they entered the lift, but Jack was too busy to pay him mind. Pressing both the “close” and “open” buttons at the same time revealed another panel of buttons underneath a slide-away plate. The hare chose a floor and down they went. Ryan might have been surprised to see a new range of underground floors, but he was too tired to care much. There were likely many secrets about this place, ones he was sure he would discover sooner or later. Right now he just wanted a cup of coffee, or smack Jack in the head. Yet as they reached the desired floor he accepted he would get no such mercy. Pity.  
  
The room was a spacious indoor gymnasium with everything from free weights and ellipticals to a running track. All in various animal sizes. He even saw what seemed to be a mock section of buildings and climbing walls. Ryan slowly looked over to the striped hare, his brows furrowing in a fierce glare. “I fucking hate you.”  
  
The corners of his lips doing their signature twitch, Jack hummed pleasantly. “I know.”  
  
The day turned out to be just as difficult as the raccoon thought it would be. The first two hours consisted of various exercises through the weights, track, and what Jack called the “urban freerunning” course. Ryan was thankful of the nets available to catch him, because he fell. Once or twice. A few times. Many times. He could have sworn Jack had been smiling, but every time he looked, the striped hare was neutral. Fucking asshole.  
  
After the gym was an hour of sparring. Another event where the raccoon got to enjoy being humiliated. On top of getting thrown to the mat every minute, the collar gave him little shocks when he inevitably got irritated. Overall, it was a shitty time. Even the shower and coffee he got after did little to raise his spirits.  
  
The rest of the day consisted of classes of various types: stealth basics, cryptography, radio use and phonetic alphabet, first aid, structure of law, general knowledge, and firearms handling. Some of these he paid more attention to than others, whether it be due to prior knowledge or boredom. Regardless, they were more enjoyable than the preceding events, and he went home feeling a lot better, if not exhausted. Jack had even given him an approving eye as they reviewed that day and planned the next. “Not a bad start, Lixo. But tomorrow will only be harder. Get some rest.”  
  
Ryan took the advice without protest and yawned a good night. Once more the sensation of heavy limbs overtook him as he undressed and wriggled under the covers. His head poked out of the top, and as it did he found he had a perfect view out the window and out to the city skyline. Thousands of lights twinkled and dazzled at him like diamonds. Somewhere out there was his vixen, his beloved Bell. The city was just a pane of glass away, but it might as well have been as far as the stars. The raccoon pressed his nose to the window, his heart yearning to be that much closer. He might have cried, but his body was too weary to muster tears. _  
__  
_ _Not much longer, my love. I promise._  
  
His last thoughts before slumber overtook him was of her warm smile, and for a moment, he was at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed, the three of you that read...whatever this is. Let me know if I missed anything, as I am bound to, and of course go ahead and leave a comment telling me how much you enjoyed or disliked it. 
> 
> Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. I know Ryan carries a stigma for how I wrote him in times past. Know that he, and the events of For The Record, will be a lot different now. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comment if you enjoyed. Criticism and questions welcomed.


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